


Thirsty

by am_bellanoire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire
Summary: “What's so funny?” Hermione asked, unable to stay the smile on her face as she stepped further into the room, bypassingherchair altogether and opting to stand in front of her lover, taking in the view.“Oh nothing,” Bellatrix, snickered delightedly, clearly indicating that it was obviously something, “Just one of these old gossip rags.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 12
Kudos: 154





	Thirsty

It had been a long and taxing day at the Ministry. As Minister for Magic, there were some days where Hermione felt like her head was going to do a full 360 turn. It was she who carried Britain's Wizarding World on her shoulders, it was she that directed each and every Department, each and ever trainee, official, deputy, supervisor, senior that stepped into her domain. But even on the toughest days, she drew strength from the portrait of Madam Artemisia Luftkin, the very first female Minister for Magic that hung in her office. If Artemisia could do it, so could she. And that was her mantra. She had survived a war for Merlin's sake, helped bring down the darkest Wizard ever known. She dug into those reserves too, when need be. 

But at last, the long day was over and it wasn't until she had Apparated into the foyer of her home that Hermione exhaled a breath of relief, shuddering in pleasure at the familiar warmth of the blood wards welcoming her within the walls. She could smell the lingering delicious aromas of the dinner Elfie had prepared. In the distance she could hear Caravelli's Moulin Rouge playing and knew her Bella was in the library where she tended to wait on the nights Hermione came home late. 

The brunette made her way in the direction of the library, still in her Ministry robes but just needing that additional sense of _home_ that only the sight of her wife could give. Yes, she could hear the crackling wood in the fire, knew food was waiting, and be inside to avoid the wind and cold, but it was Bellatrix who gave her that something to come back to after a long day at work. 

As she approached the double doors leading into the library, she could hear the sound of Bella's raucous laughter and instantly a smile slid onto her face. She had always loved the sound of Bellatrix's true laugh. Not her high pitched cackles or dark chuckles – though _those_ did tend to get her wet below the waist – but that rich, deep, and throaty laugh of honest amusement. It quickened her pace and had her swinging the doors back in her haste to be where her wife was. 

“Hello pet,” Bellatrix greeted her, black eyes lit with mirth and firelight, her sea of curls unruly as all hell, falling like a comforter around her slight but sturdy frame. She was sitting in her favorite chair, one leg draped across the arm, a knit blanket draped across her because it didn't matter how warm it was in the room, she liked a blanket. 

“What's so funny?” Hermione asked, unable to stay the smile on her face as she stepped further into the room, bypassing _her_ chair altogether and opting to stand in front of her lover, taking in the view. 

“Oh nothing,” Bellatrix, snickered delightedly, clearly indicating that it was obviously something, “Just one of these old gossip rags.”

It was then the former Gryffindor got a look at the magazine in Bella's hands and her brows furrowed. The Wizarding World had its fair share of periodicals outside of the Daily Prophet. The Quibbler had garnered a fair reputation during and after the war. The Quidditch Inquirer had always been popular but Witch Weekly was notorious for featuring questionable material as well as articles of one Rita Skeeter. 

“You'd be surprised,” Bellatrix continued on cheerfully, which could be sometimes scary in itself because when Bella was happy Merlin only knew what might come out of her mouth, “how many people wish they were fucking the Minister for Magic.”

Case and point. 

Hermione froze where she stood, eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of what her lover had just said. 

“W-what?”

But Bellatrix only nodded, giggling as she licked her finger – far more lewdly than need be – and turned the page in the magazine, quite thorougly enjoying this, “Mhm. It's rather insane. One P. Hicks claims they would, and I quote, 'let Minister Granger tear out my heart and thank her for it before dropping dead'.”

“Bella!”

Because what on earth could she even say to that. Had she known what she'd been walking into, Hermione might have opted to eat Elfie's delicious dinner first. Who would say something like that and why? Besides, it wasn't even possible. No one could talk with their heart removed from their chest. There'd be no blood flow to the brain. And it was clear that Bella was having far too much fun with this and realized her embarrassment judging by the slow smirk that tugged at her full lips and the eager look dark eyes held as she cast them back toward the page. 

“It gets far more deranged from there,” the dark witch all but chirped, “H. Wyatt says they would let you wear their rib cage as a cloak.”

Against her better judgement, Hermione angled herself toward the page, simultaneously disgusted and curious. Since when had her citizens gotten so violent? Or did they think because she was with _Bellatrix_ she now had a penchant for brutality?

“Oh and R.C Reynolds says they would cook you breakfast in bed every morning until they drew their last breath.” The former Death Eater snorted derisively, “Isn't _that_ romantic.”

Hermione didn't miss the look of jealousy which flash across that pale, patrician face. It was enough to make _her_ smirk as she removed her official robes, revealing her Muggle clothing beneath; a burgundy turrle neck sweater, black skinny jeans that hugged her curves, and black ankle boots. “It's ridiculous,” she murmured, noticing the way Bellatrix's eyes raked shamelessly over her frame. 

She let out a soft gasp when a strong hand suddenly shot out, gripping her wrist and _yanking_ her forward, but came willing to settle onto her lover's lap. Greeted with the smell of pine and dark spices, Hermione couldn't help but let out a low moan, seeking purchase in all those curls. Devil's snare had nothing on Bellatrix's hair and Godric help her but what a way to go. 

“Come,” Bella murmured, wrapping an arm around the brunette's waist and tugging her even closer, “read this one.”

“I'd rather not,” Hermione whispered, unspooling onto her wife, fingers already tangling in dark hair, eyes at half mast. _Yes_ , she had missed this all day. 

“Oh don't be that way, pet, this one's hilarious,” Bellatrix purred but Hermione can feel her melting under the touch, noting the way her tone of voice has hitched. Slightly breathless, but still in control. Though it was waning and Hermione could tell. She let out a soft sound of pleasure as spider-like fingers traced patterns at the small of her back and snuggled deeper into Bella's embrace. Honeyed eyes cast downwards at the print on the page, taking in the moving pictures and other magical displays. 

“I'd let Minister Granger cast an Incarcerous around my neck and pull me between her thighs.” It definitely gave her pause, the printed vow and her head whipped around to glare at the snickering witch, “Bella, what the hell!”

But Bellatrix of course by now was damn near doubled over despite the tight grip she had around Hermione's waist, “I wish I'd come up with that one but luckily for me I have Minister Granger right here with me, don't I?”

That she did. But _still_. Granted, it was getting harder to think what with the way Bella's fingers had deftly undone the button of her jeans and were worming their way beneath the waistband of her knickers. It had been a long day and true this fan mail of sorts was a little comical...

“Throw the magazine in the fire first,” she managed to grit out just as her clit was _casually_ flicked and an electric current shot through her body making her tense from head to toe.

“You're no fun, there's some things in here I'd like to try,” Hermone wasn't sure if she was going to kiss or hex that overly smug look off Bellatrix's face, eyelashes fluttering as cool fingers probed deeper, “Minister Granger can carve her name into my back and I'd go shirtless for the rest of my life,” the fingers stilled momentarily, “Ooh could we? Please?”

Of _course_ they could. Whatever. So long as Bella kept stroking her where she needed to be stroked. Hermione moaned out a response that was neither a yes or no as blunt teeth nipped at her earlobe, a wrist twisting as two fingers impaled her core at an angle that promised quick release.

Once the aftershocks had ceased and Bellatrix had brought her slick fingers to her mouth to lick away the evidence of their play, Hermione let out a contented sigh, having not moved from her place on the former Slytherin's lap. If possible, she'd managed to get even closer, the two of them choking the old armchair with tangled limbs. 

“Did people actually submit these? They would never have done this if I were a man,” Hermione muttered, her breath warm against a pale neck as she nuzzled deeper into wild curls. 

“You can't blame them, you're hot and obviously popular. Fudge and Shacklebolt wish they could have had this level of support.”

Bellatrix's tone was only slightly strained despite the fact that she had to be _dripping_ and hadn't yet been relieved of said state. 

This was _fun_.

“Fine, fine. Read me one more.”

It was meant to be said in a jesting manner but was far too high pitched to be so. And her lover wasn't holding back now, her voice deepening to something sultry, making Hermione writhe against her leg, her core tightening. Sensitive but ever wanton. 

“Hmm, ah yes. B. Black says Minister Granger is mine so she gets to do whatever she likes with me and the rest of you horny fucks can sod off - “

Whatever meant to be said was muffled by a searing kiss, Hermione's teeth nipping Bellatrix's lower lip, tongues twining, hands grasping. Without a word, Bella Apparated them both out of the library and into their bed upstairs. Quite a clever feat of magic but neither one could speak on it as they were both occupied. It wasn't until much later that Hermione could even drudge up the strength to whisper quite hoarsely, 

“I guess that thing wasn't rubbish after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by celebrities reading thirst tweets. Those videos are hilarious.Thanks for reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
